


Fever

by luckydip



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, Sick Dean, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10037759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckydip/pseuds/luckydip
Summary: His hand shot out before he even registered that he was moving, gripping the railing to get another look at the patient, desperate to prove that it wasn’t his brother.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dizzojay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzojay/gifts).



> Written for the 2016 Spn Reverse Bang. I was lucky enough to claim Dizzojay's lovely prompt, and had a great time with it, I hope I did it justice for you. Thank you so much to Dizzojay for her wonderful understanding during one of the most difficult patches of my life, and to the mods for running the challenge! [Please go here to check out Dizzojay's glorious art.](http://dizzojay.livejournal.com/433391.html)
> 
> I've always been fascinated by Dean's line in the pilot. "You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." And always loved fics that explain what happened two years ago, so finally ended up writing one of my own!

The closer that Sam got to finishing high school, the less time they seemed to spend in each town before Dad moved them on. By the time he sat the SATs, Sam was enrolling in a new school practically every month and he hated it. Just for once, he didn’t want to be the new kid, the freak that lived in a motel with his brother and lied about what their Dad really did on his trips away. It had made him all the more determined to go to college and give himself the change to do something else with his life other than hunting. 

When it had come to applying to Stanford, their nomadic lifestyle meant that he’d had no permanent address to put on the application form. This meant it had taken the acceptance letter longer than normal to reach him. The fistful of bills that Dean had pressed into Sam’s hands after he’d stormed out meant he could get the bus rather than hitchhike but he’d still struggled to get to Palo Alto before classes started. His registration had been completed in such a rush no-one had noticed that Sam was missing some of his medical records.

It had been picked up during a record audit one summer and Sam had been told to provide them before he could register for junior year. With the way he’d left, he couldn’t exactly phone Dad and ask for his immunisation certificates, if they even existed. So Sam had ended up at a hospital clinic getting a course of childhood shots that he’d managed fine without for twenty years. 

“Does anyone even get mumps anymore?” He grumbled as the nurse prepped the syringe. 

“Two hundred cases in the US last year.” The nurse responded without looking up. “More like 200,000 before they introduced the vaccine program. But if you think you’d be fine without it, then be my guest.” She set the tray down next to Sam and picked up an alcohol wipe. “Just don’t come crying to me when your testicles swell to the size of oranges.” 

That stopped his complaining. She was kidding, right? But the nurse, an older woman with a stern face, didn’t look like the type to joke around. With no desire to find out the painful way, Sam held out his arm and offered his most winning smile. “No ma’am.”

A short time later and a few hundred dollars lighter and Sam had the certificates he needed to register for fall classes. It was one weight off his mind and meant he could start focussing on prep work for his next semester. Sam’s stomach rumbled and he steadfastly ignored it, neither his insurance nor his scholarship fund covered the costs of the shots and he needed to stretch his last few dollars until his financial aid came through. 

Mentally running through the list of books he needed to stop by the library and pick up, Sam wasn’t paying attention to where he was going until he walked straight into a woman passing by. She tripped, but Sam managed to catch her before she fell, and only her white cane clattered to the floor. Sam looked at in horror and snapped his gaze back to the woman, whose milky white eyes still seemed to lock onto him. 

Sam grabbed the cane and placed it back into her hands. “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

“Be careful where you’re walking, boy.” She snatched it back into her grip and stormed off.

Turning back towards the exit, Sam didn’t see the moving gurney until he’d almost walked into it. Screeching to a halt he started to apologize to the staff until he caught a glimpse of the patient lying under the sheets and felt the blood freeze in his veins. “Dean?”

His hand shot out before he even registered that he was moving, gripping the railing to get another look at the patient, desperate to prove that it wasn’t his brother. His hope was crushed as the gurney paused and Sam got his first good look at the patient. He was pale and most of his face was covered by a white mask, but it was definitely Dean. 

Sweat was beading on Dean’s forehead and Sam noted flecks of blood starting to seep through the sheet around his arms with worry. 

“Sir?” Sam realized that someone was trying to get his attention and dragged his eyes from Dean to find one of the porters watching him suspiciously.

“Sorry.” Sam took his hand off the railing but couldn’t bring himself to step any further back. “I just – .” 

The porter’s gaze softened. “Do you know this man?”

Sam glanced back down at Dean, who showed no signs of consciousness. He had no way of doing what Dean was doing here, or what he’d told them at the hospital so he went with the truth. Dean could lay into him for blowing his cover when he woke up, Sam decided. “He’s my brother.”

“Okay, you better come with us.” The porter gestured down the hall. “The doctor’s going to want to talk to you.” 

*

The steady keep of a monitor was the first thing to pierce through Dean’s consciousness. That coupled with the smell of cheap disinfectant meant that he’d probably managed to land his ass in hospital.

Great. Just freakin’ great.

First things first, Dean forced his eyes open to try and work out exactly where he was so he could plan an escape route. And to try and do something about the heat, he knew it was summer in California and all, but would it kill ‘em to turn on the A/C in here? 

The room itself was nondescript, bare walls and a window view of the parking lot doing nothing to identify the hospital he’d ended up in. There was a sign stuck to the closed door, but Dean couldn’t make out any of the writing from the back. He spotted his clothes folded on a chair beside him, and decided to start there. Mindful of the IV line in his arm, Dean pushed himself upright to reach for them.

Which was the point at which the rest of his body suddenly got with the programme. A stab of pain drove through his stomach, not helped by the coughing fit that overtook him at the movement. As the coughing subsided, Dean dropped back against the pillow, trying to catch his breath again. Okay, moving was not a good plan, he got the picture. 

A flash of red caught the corner of his eye, and Dean’s heart sunk as he lifted his hand that had been covering his mouth splattered with flecks of blood. 

That really could not be good.

Before Dean had any more time to dwell on it, he heard the click of the door handle. Quickly shoving his hands under the sheets he looked up to the woman who had entered wearing a white coat. The smile Dean had started to flash faltered as he spotted her face mask.

“Mr Winchester?” Seemingly sensing his discomfort, the woman pulled the mask down under her chin. It did nothing to make him feel better. Neither did the fact that she apparently knew his name. His only real ID was hidden in the trunk of the Impala, and he didn’t remember telling anyone in California who he was. Something about the situation didn’t add up, but for now the only thing Dean could do was play along.

“What’s up, Doc?” He tried for another grin but it felt strained. Even talking felt like an effort, he was so tired. 

The woman looked at his sympathetically. “My name is Dr Banks; do you know where you are?” When Dean shook his head she pressed on. “What is the last thing you remember?”

Dean struggled to get his memories in order. He’d been in California for a hunt; that much he did remember. Dad was supposed to have come with him, but Caleb had called with a potential lead on the demon, and he’d had left to check that out and sent Dean on ahead. Dean had been keen to get stuck in, Dad had trusted him to start this job and letting him down wasn’t an option. 

Dad had tracked the reports of three deaths in California in the last month. The only thing that linked the victims was the cause of the death; all three suddenly dropped dead of unexplained diseases. It was almost as if something supernatural was infecting them with fatal…. fuck. Dean’s mind finally put the pieces together, could his day get any worse?

Belatedly realizing that the Doctor was still waiting for an answer, Dean ducked his head. “Sorry. Was just passing through the area and stopped for the night.” His head was starting to throb and just putting the thoughts together was hard. “Not sure how I ended up here though.”

“You collapsed outside a diner on Emerson yesterday afternoon, and you’ve been here overnight.” Dr Banks walked over to the end of his bed, picked up the chart and flipped it open. “Are you currently under the care of another hospital?”

Dean shook his head again, trying not to grimace at the ache in his neck that the movement caused. It seemed like every part of his body had something wrong with it.

“You’re running a low grade fever, so we’ve got you on broad spectrum antibiotics to get it down and fluids to rehydrate you. Now that you’re awake, I’d like to run some tests and see if we can get to the bottom of this.”

“Sounds good.” Not that Dean was intent on hanging around. He had a job to do before Dad got here, and if it this was anything to do with whatever creature was killing people then the hospital wouldn’t be able to help him.

“Okay, I’ll talk to the nurses about getting you settled; in the mean time is there anyone we can call for you?” 

There was no way that Dean was interrupting Dad while he was working, definitely not before he’d finished the job. “It’s just me.”

“No family in the area?” Dr Banks clarified.

Not any that Dean would ever let himself think about sober. Sam had left the life, had left them, and Dean was not going to drag him back in just because he might have fallen on a spirit’s bad side. “Not that I know of.”

Her face hardened, but Dean could see her fighting to keep her expression neutral as she spoke to him. What the hell was going on here? “Right. I’ll be back shortly.” 

She replaced his chart and left the room, but left the door open. It wasn’t long before he heard raised voices from outside. Curious, Dean shifted to the edge of the bed. Slowly – he was still reeling from his last attempt – he forced his aching legs under him and stood. A brief wave of dizziness swept through him, but Dean grasped at the IV pole for support and used it to make his way to the doorway to see what was going on. 

“ – if you don’t leave I will have to call security.” That was Dr Banks and she sounded pissed.

“Please, just let me talk to him.” 

No. It couldn’t be. Leaning on the doorframe, Dean looked out to the nurses’ station where Dr Banks was arguing with someone. His back was to Dean but it would be a hell of a lot longer than two years before Dean couldn’t recognize his own brother’s voice. 

“Sam?” 

The shouting stopped, but that was as far as Dean saw as his vision went black at the edges and his legs gave way. He didn’t even remember hitting the floor. 

*

“Sam?”

Any relief that Sam felt at hearing Dean’s voice dissipated as he whipped around just in time to see Dean’s knees buckle and his eyes roll back. 

“Dean!” Sam ran across the ward to try and catch Dean before he collapsed. He managed it just in time to stop Dean’s head colliding painfully with the hard floor. Shifting his hold, Sam tapped his face. “Dean? You with me, man?”

There was no response and Sam frowned at the heat he could feel pouring off Dean’s skin. He spotted a smear of blood across Dean’s palm, but couldn’t see the source anyway. 

“Help me get him back into bed.” The doctor’s voice came from behind him, less angry than she had been threatening to call security a few moments earlier. Together they lifted Dean and carried him back to the hospital bed. Sam rearranged the sheets while Dr Banks checked the IV line to make sure Dean hadn’t pulled anything loose. 

Of all the ways that Sam’s subconscious had made him worry about Dean these past two years, it hadn’t been like this. His nightmares were full of images of Dean injured or dying, but never sick. He’d never imagined that Dean could look so frail. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked as Dr Banks finished and came to stand next to him.

“At this stage, it’s hard to know. We’re waiting on the lab results to give us a better idea.”

“Can I stay with him?” Sam was prepared to fight tooth and nail for that if he had to – they weren’t separating them while Dean was like this.

The Doctor considered him for a moment. “He clearly knew you, I’m not arguing that.” She paused. “But when he woke up, he told me there was no family to contact.” She raised an eyebrow. “Can you explain that one for me?”

Dammit Dean. Was he really so desperate to keep his distance from Sam that he wouldn’t call even when he was lying in hospital in the same town? What was Dean even doing here anyway? 

Sam twisted his hands in the bed sheets as he thought about what to tell her. In the end he let out a deep breath and started with the truth, or a version of it. “My Dad and I don’t really get along. When I told him that I wanted to go to college instead of joining the family business he kicked me out.” Sam stared resolutely down at the bed; he’d not told anyone at Stanford what had really happened with his family and rehashing the memory was painful. “Dean, he uh, kinda idolizes our Dad, I guess he didn’t trust to be in the same room without fighting.” Which hurt more than Sam cared to admit.

Instead of focusing on it, Sam asked, “Have you seen our Dad at all?”

Dr Banks shook her head. “Your brother was alone when they found him, no wallet or ID on him. He was a John Doe until you turned up.”

Did Dad send Dean off on his own? Or was there something wrong with him? Sam was confused; he had so many questions and he wasn’t getting any answers until Dean woke up.

At least Dr Banks seemed satisfied with his answers. “Alright, I’m going to check on some of my other patients. Let one of the nurses know when he wakes up, Mr Winchester.”

Sam nodded and the Doctor left. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and settled in for the long wait.

It was several hours before Dean showed any signs of waking. Sam was on the verge of nodding off himself when he heard a groan from the bed.

“Dean?” Sam shot upright and looked towards him. “You with me?”

Dean visibly froze for a second. “Sammy?” He rasped, cracking one eye open to look over at Sam. 

“Yeah, I’m right here.” 

“What are you doing here?” Dean pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, staring down at his feet. 

“Had an appointment and saw them bringing you in.” Sam had loads of questions but first he just wanted Dean to look at him. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, still avoiding looking directly at Sam. “Yeah, well, don’t you have some studying to do or something?”

What? How could Dean even think that Sam would want to be anywhere else right now? "Not while you're in here."

Dean finally looked up and met Sam's gaze. "Look, it's probably just the 'flu or something, no big deal. No sense in us both being stuck in here." He flashed Sam a grin, full of the patented Dean Winchester charm, but his eyes were tired and Sam didn't buy it for a second. Dean clearly sensed it and faltered slightly before insisting. "Dude, I'm fine. I'll give you a call when I get out, okay?"

"Dean, I'm not leaving you." _Again_ , his subconscious helpfully supplied. Shit, was that it? Was Dean mad at him for leaving? Sam had thought Dean would be happy. With Sam gone, he was free to do his own thing and not just look after his kid brother.

Whatever Dean was going to say in response was lost to a coughing fit. Dean curled forward, the hand that was covering his mouth gripping his chest tightly in pain.

Sam wanted to step in and help but he didn’t think that Dean would take it well. So instead, he waved over one of the passing nurses and asked to tell Dr Banks that Dean was awake.

The coughs finally subsided and Dean was able to lean back against the pillows, face flushed with the effort. Sam poured him a glass of water and Dean took it, trying to surreptitiously shove his hand out of sight. Sam caught the movement and realised with a sinking feeling where the blood he'd seen earlier had come from. "How long?" He asked.

For a moment it looked take Dean was going to deny it but in the end he just shook his head. "Since I woke up here."

"That's not something that happens overnight."

"Well it did to me." Dean snapped, "Just go home, Sammy, this isn't your problem."

"Of course it's my problem, you're my brother!" Dean had gone back to staring at his feet, and Sam felt like tearing his hair out. 

Someone cleared their throat behind Sam, and both of them turned to see Doctor Banks in the doorway. Sam didn't know how long she'd been standing there and she gave no indication of how much she'd heard, going straight to the point. "Welcome back, Dean. Now you're awake again, I'd like to carry out a check-up and run a few tests, see if we can get to the bottom of what's wrong."

She turned back to Sam. "This is going to take a while; why don't you go home, grab something to eat and come back later this evening?"

"I- " Sam went to argue, but she gave him a stern look and he knew he was on fairly thin ice around here as it was and backed down. "Okay, I'll see you later, Dean."

Dean gave a non-committal grunt as Sam left, closing the door behind him, and planned a new course of action. If he wasn't going to get any answers from Dean then he'd find them out by himself.

Sam headed towards the exit but stopped first at the reception desk. He smiled at the receptionist and explained that he was in town visiting his brother in hospital, and did she happen to have any information on motels in the area that would suit his modest budget?

She rummaged around in a drawer and came up with a printed list that she handed over, circling a couple of the better options. Sam thanked her, and headed out. Dad had taught them both how to pick a motel that wouldn't run too many checks and would allow them to keep a low profile.

Sam scanned the names and information the receptionist had given him before settling on the Rising Sun. It was everything that Dad would look for in a motel, and Sam’s gut told him that this is where Dean would have holed up while he was in town.

*

Thankfully the Rising Sun was only a short bus ride from the hospital. His plan was to head straight to the reception to try and get Dean’s room number, but as he arrived Sam spotted a familiar car in the parking lot and smiled. Some things never changed.

The Impala was parked in a bay in front of a room, so Sam decided to try his luck in that one first. One of the useful things about the motels that Dad picked was that they tended not to be that tight on security, and lock picking was one of the first skills that Dad had drilled into them. Even with a couple of years out of practice Sam managed to jimmy the lock open without too much difficulty. 

It was definitely Dean’s room; Sam recognized the bag next to one of the beds and the handle of the knife just poking out from under the pillow. The other bed was neatly made and showed no sign of having been slept in, adding to Sam’s confusion about Dad’s whereabouts. When Sam left for Stanford Dean had been hunting regularly with Dad for months, with Sam gone he’d expected that they would hunt together full time. 

Searching the rest of the room for any clues of what Dean had been up to, Sam found a collection of newspaper clippings by the bed. There were three articles reporting deaths in the local area, all within the last couple of weeks; a young woman with a burst stomach ulcer, a middle-aged man with an apparently undiagnosed lung condition and a small boy who died after complaining about stomach pains. According to the articles, all three of them had been in perfect health until a couple of days before they died. 

It didn’t look like much, but they’d checked out even weaker links before. Dean had scribbled the details of a local morgue down the edge of the stomach ulcer article, so he was clearly looking into something to do with this. 

Until he’d woken up in hospital with an explained illness. Sam’s stomach dropped, and he scooped the articles. If his hunch was right, then there wasn’t much time to lose, and Sam had work to do. 

*

By the time the Doctor was done with the check up and all the tests, all Dean wanted to do was sleep. He was tired and hot, and would have probably sold his soul for a cold shower and a nap. Although he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to find the strength for the shower right now. 

Doc Banks had taken his temperature again as they’d settled him back in his room, and hadn’t done a great job at masking her frown at the result before promising to be back with another fever reducer. 

She walked passed Sam on her way out, who looked at Dean with concern. “She still here?”

Dean shrugged. “She digs me, Doc’s got good taste.”

Sam didn’t seem convinced and put a hand on Dean’s forehead to check the temperature. His fingers felt like ice against Dean’s burning skin.

Dean shoved him off. “Jesus, dude, get off me.” He wasn’t a child, dammit, and he wasn’t about to let Sam waltz back into his life and treat him like one. 

Under Dean’s glare, Sam backed off and took a seat, flashing Dean those damn puppy dog eyes. The ones he’d somehow mastered as a kid that Dean could never resist for long when he was feeling healthy, right now he didn’t stand a chance.

“What do you want, Sammy?” Dean decided to treat this situation like a band-aid. The longer Sam was around this time, the more it was going to hurt when he left again so Dean wanted him out as quickly as possible.

Sam dropped something into Dean’s lap. He recognized it straight off as the newspaper clippings from the case, with his own handwriting on one of them. He looked up at Sam. “Where did you get these?”

At least Sam had the decency to look slightly sheepish. “Your motel room.” 

“I got that, but how did you find it?” Dean mentally retraced his movements, trying to work out where he’d been sloppy enough to leave a trail. “There’s got to be a couple of dozen motels around here.”

“This is a student town, Dean. How many ’67 Chevy Impalas do you think people see driving around?”

“Not enough, clearly.” Why should Dean be penalized just because some rich college brats had no taste in classic cars?

“Besides,” Sam continued, “I know how you and Dad choose motels, remember?” Then I just had to pick the room lock to get in.” 

Dean let out a whistle, impressed despite himself. “Not bad, Sammy. Least you’ve not forgotten everything.”

“You’re here on a case, aren’t you? But where’s Dad? Why isn’t he here with you?”

“He’s with Caleb. Got a lead on the demon and sent me on ahead.” There didn’t seem to be any point in hiding anything if Sam had worked out that much for himself.

“ _The_ demon? Why didn’t he take you with him?” Great. It had been all of five minutes and Sam was already questioning Dad’s decisions. Dean loved them both more than anything, but seriously, sometimes he just wanted to bash their heads together until they saw sense. 

“Because this job is important too. Dad’ll catch up when he’s done.” Which would hopefully be after Dean was back on his feet. He didn’t have the energy to play peacemaker right now.

Sam sighed but didn’t push it, and Dean was thankful for small mercies. He waved towards the articles. “Did you make it to the morgue?”

Grateful for the excuse to change the subject, Dean nodded. “Yeah. Coroner had no idea what caused it – apparently the woman had a check-up last week, no issues, then drops dead two days later with the largest stomach ulcer he’d ever seen.”

“And that’s not normal?”

“No according to the Doc. Said that kind of size would take weeks or months to develop before it burst like hers had.” He’d shown her stomach to Dean too, weirdly enthusiastic at the discovery he could share with what he thought was a fellow doctor. Dean’s stomach rolled at the memory. 

“And the others?” Sam pushed on.

Dean shrugged; he’d not got that far. It wasn’t long after he’d left the morgue that he’d collapsed. “That was next.”

“Seems weird though, if all the vics are showing different symptoms? Ghosts normally go for a routine. Same deal every haunting for eternity.”

“Maybe it’s not a ghost,” Dean pointed out. There were loads of other monsters out there in the dark. “A creature that causes disease.” 

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Like pestilence.” 

Dean laughed. “As in the four horsemen? Little far from the apocalypse round here, don’t you think?” But maybe not hell, didn’t the Doctor say something about something to bring his temperature down?

“Maybe, but most of the things we fight have some basis in mythology. The apocalypse might not be the end of the world, but the end of one town.” 

Sam wasn’t wrong, though Dean was still certain he was off base here. “You really want to help with this?” Last time he’d seen Sam, he’d made his opinions on the lifestyle pretty clear, there was definitely no ‘we’ about it.

Sam looked down at the clippings. “If this case is why you’re here, then we don’t have much time. I’m going to look into these to deaths and see what the connection is.” He gathered up the papers and stood. “I’ll be back in the morning. You just focus on fighting at your end, and do what the Doctors say.” 

“Or what?” Dean challenged him. He wasn’t used to taking orders from his kid brother.

Sam regarded Dean for a moment before giving him an evil smirk. “Well, if you don’t co-operate, I’ll just have to hit you where it hurts.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys that he held up in front of Dean. Dean’s face fell as he recognized them. “I think the Impala’s about due for a makeover, don’t you?” 

Dean spluttered with rage. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Like you wouldn’t swap my shampoo for Nair?” Sam shot back before pretending to consider the keys. “I think pink might be the way to go, very Lady Penelope.” 

“There will be nowhere on this planet you can hide without me finding you,” Dean growled. “I will end you.”

Pulling the keys back out of reach, Sam just shrugged. “Then you need to listen to the Doctor and get out of here. Nothing you can do from that bed.” 

With that parting blow, Sam left, Dean’s keys jangling in his pocket. The outrage had taken most of Dean’s remaining energy and he drifted off, dreaming of all the ways he would kill Sam if there was so much of a scratch on his baby.

*

The next morning, Sam turned up to the hospital bright and early. He’d followed through on his promise to Dean the night before, and looked into the other two deaths. He’d called the morgue, pretending to be a journalist and managed to glean a few more pieces of information about them. 

He still hadn’t got any further on what might be causing the illnesses and that was worrying him. If they were still following the same timeline as the first three victims then he had less than 24 hours to save Dean.

It had been a long night with barely any sleep, so Sam stopped by the hospital cafeteria for a coffee before he headed to Dean’s ward. He spotted the blind woman he’d walked into the day before in the corridor and gave her a wide berth. The last thing he needed was to be kicked out by security for knocking over the same patient twice.

One of the nurses was coming out of Dean’s room as he walked through the ward and he smiled at her. “How is he?”

She looked at him apologetically, “His fever spiked last night. We’re doing everything we can to get it back down.” 

“How high?”

“104°F. We’re still a way off the danger zone, but the Doctor wants to sort this before it gets any higher.” 

Sam’s stomach tightened. “What is the danger zone?” 

He gaze darted between Sam and the nurses’ station, deliberating over what to say to him. “Anything over 107°F carries a risk of permanent brain damage, but don’t worry. “She patted his arm. “It’s really rare to see a patient go over 105°F and your brother is in the best possible care here.”

“Thanks.” It might have made him feel better if Dean had a normal fever that the hospital staff would be able to find the cause of. “Is he awake?”

The nurse nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Sam passed her and headed into Dean’s room. Dean was lying down with his eyes closed, but he cracked one open as Sam approached. “Mornin’,” he rasped. 

As sick as Dean looked, he sounded even worse. “The nurse said you had a rough night?”

“Doesn’t she know that a lady never kisses and tells?” Dean chuckled but it dissolved into a cough that shook his IV lines. There were definitely more bags connected to the cannula than there had been last night, Sam noted with concern. 

Dean must have seen the worry on Sam’s face because he visibly tried to pull himself together and sit up. Same old Dean, would never let anyone see him at his most vulnerable. “What did you find?”

Sam took a deep breath and pulled himself together. He had to focus if he wanted to help Dean. “So, I may have found a connection between all of the victims.” 

“Go on then, some of us don’t have all day.” Dean added when Sam paused, wincing as he spoke.

“Okay, so you know the second victim was in perfect health because she’d had a check-up two days before she died?” Sam looked to make sure that Dean was still following him. “Well, I checked out the other two. Both of them had some reason to b in hospital two days before they died.”

“Did they see the same doctor? Could be an angel of death.” Dad had told them about creature that hung around hospitals and took their victims from there. But according to the lore they targeted those that were already sick and dying to avoid drawing suspicion to themselves. It didn’t make sense for them to kill three healthy people in one place.

Sam shook his head. “Nope, I looked into that.”

“Great, except I don’t fit that pattern.” Dean pointed out. 

Sam thought it over for a moment; then suddenly he had an idea and checked the address that Dean had written on the second article. “Yes, you do.” He held the article up for Dean to see. “You were here two days ago, in the morgue checking up on the second victim.” 

“So it’s something in this hospital? Fan-freaking-tastic.” Dean closed his eyes. “At least I don’t have to go very far to waste it.” 

“We still have no idea what’s doing this.” Sam pointed out, acutely aware at how little time they had left.

“Well then we better get to work.” Dean fought his way into a sitting position. “Otherwise more people are gonna die.”

Sam had to bite his tongue to stop himself snapping that he didn’t care about other people, he only cared about Dean. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and forced him to lie back down. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What’s it look like? Hunting.” Dean pushed up against Sam’s grip, but the fever was leaving him weak and Sam kept him subdued easily. The feel of the heat still pouring off Dean did nothing to ease Sam’s nerves about the seriousness of the situation. 

“No. You’re going to stay right here while I go and find out what’s causing this.” When Dean looked up to argue with him he glared. “I’m serious, Dean.”

“Never much for research anyway,” Dean finally acquiesced and let Sam lay him flat. He squeezed Dean’s shoulder in comfort, his worry ratcheting up several levels as after a moment, one of Dean’s hands dropped on top of his. Dean had been Sam’s primary carer practically his whole life, but he’d never let Sam return the favor. It scared him how much pain Dean had to be in to accept this from Sam.

Even so, the moment only lasted a couple of seconds before Dean was pushing him off. “Go on, get out of here.” 

Swallowing down the lump in throat, Sam nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just get some rest, okay?”

*

Sam didn’t want to go far, not when they knew the danger was in the hospital. He didn’t want to leave Dean protected only by people who had no idea the supernatural existed. 

There was a library in the building; Sam had seen the signs while walking around the hospital and so he decided to try there first. The sign outside the library declared it only for staff and medical students but there was nothing to stop visitors from walking in and Sam decided to try his luck. 

And for once, luck was on his side. He got in without being challenged, and while he doubted any of the medical textbooks would help with supernatural creatures, Sam did find a free computer with internet access.

Unfortunately, that was where his luck ended. His research confirmed that the three victims were definitely connected to this hospital, and thankfully, Sam couldn’t find any other deaths that fitted the pattern, but he also wasn’t getting any headway on what creature was responsible, and the hours were slipping away.

Sam had researched the history of the hospital, but there was no record of anything like this happening before. He couldn’t find any information on creatures that caused ulcers, or colic, although there were several that caused death by fever. Not that any of it was helpful, because it wouldn’t save Dean. 

Growling in frustration, Sam tried to think of anything else that might be relevant to this case. Putting the victim’s symptoms into Google the first time had just given him links to medical pages. With no other better ideas, he tried searching the causes of death together. Still nothing. The causes of death and ‘supernatural’ just seemed to confuse the search engine. 

Glancing at the clock, Sam realized it was nearly lunchtime. Dean had been found by the hospital in the afternoon the day before yesterday, and Sam had no idea how exact their two day timeline was. He had to find out what creature this was – and soon. 

He was running out of options, it definitely wasn’t a spirit, and Sam couldn’t find a link with any other creature he’d heard of. It was almost like magic. Magic! Maybe he was onto something, and it wasn’t a creature but someone cursing people in the hospital? He tried searching that next: colic, pleurisy, ulcer, witch. 

The first hit that came up was for the Kalevala: Rune XLV. Birth of the Nine Diseases. Sam clicked on it and starting reading. It was a tale from Finnish mythology, about a goddess of death and disease. About halfway down the page, Sam found what he was looking for. 

_“Thus Lowyatar named her offspring, Colic, Pleurisy, and Fever, Ulcer, Plague, and dread Consumption, Gout, Sterility, and Cancer.”_. 

That was it. It had to be, it was the only thing that Sam had found that made sense with the case here. The first three victims had been Colic, Pleurisy and Ulcer, which would make Dean, Fever. The worst of her nine children, blind Lowyatar banished to become the scourge of mankind. 

Sam resolved that she would never get her fourth child, so they would never see what happened after she reached nine. He didn’t believe that this really was the Finnish goddess of death and disease, but Dad had told them about demons that either the myths were based on or fashioned themselves on lore that had already developed. Sam’s best bet was that Lowyatar was a demon somewhere in the hospital.

Now all Sam had to do was find the demon and exorcise it in a crowded hospital before she came for Dean. Simple.

Sam’s cell phone started to ring, attracting him glares from other computer users. He moved quickly, grabbing his things and flipping the phone open. “Hello?”

“Mr Winchester? It’s Doctor Banks.” 

A knot formed in the pit of Sam’s stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you still near the hospital?” She asked. 

“I never left.” Sam started walking back towards the ward. “Is Dean okay?”

“Your brother is very sick. I think you should get here as soon as you can.” The Doctor told him. “I’ll explain everything when you get here.” 

“I’ll be there in five.” Sam assured her and hung up. 

He glanced down at the scraps of newspaper he clutched in his hands, worrying at how close Dean was to becoming the next article in this chain. That was something Sam wasn’t going to let happen while he still had breath in his body.

Changing direction, Sam headed out towards the parking lot, breaking into a run as soon as he was out of the hospital building. Once he reached the Impala, he popped the trunk and opened the secret compartment where the weapons stash had been when they were kids. 

Scanning the options, Sam pulled out one of the books and flicked through it for a demon exorcism ritual. Finding one, he used the newspaper clippings to bookmark the page. As a last thought, he grabbed a bottle of holy water and locked up the car, running back to the hospital. 

Out of breath and praying desperately that he wasn’t too late, Sam made it back to the ward. He could see some commotion in Dean’s room and panicked, hurrying to the doorway just in time to see Doctor Banks finish inserting a ventilator down Dean’s throat. 

“Dean?” The group around the bed turned to look over at him. 

Dr Banks gestured to one of her colleagues to finish up and came over to talk to Sam. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked, not taking his eyes off Dean as the nurse hooked up the ventilator tube.

“Dean’s fever is now up to 106.4°F. It’s very difficult for the body to cope when it’s running this hot.” The Doctor explained. “If it goes much higher then we could be looking at permanent brain damage.”

“But why does he need that?” Sam asked. 

“Dean’s body is fighting very hard. It’s doing everything it can to protect the brain and keep him alive. He lost consciousness a little while ago and he’s been struggling to breathe. This gives his body one less thing to focus on.” 

“Can I stay with him?” Sam asked. 

“Of course. Let the nurses know if there’s anything you need.” The Doctor left them alone. 

Sam pulled up next to the bed, and took hold of Dean’s hand. If Dean didn’t like it, he could wake up and tell Sam that. Even though it was two years since they’d last seen each other, Dean looked younger here than Sam remembered from when he’d left. His skin was flushed red and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“I’ve found it, Dean.” Sam started. “Lowyatar, from Finnish mythology. She’s somewhere in the hospital and I’m going to find her, but I need you to hold on, alright? Just hold on.” 

A hiss from behind caught his attention and Sam whipped round to see the patient he’d collided with yesterday, her milky white eyes staring straight at him. 

_Blind Lowyatar, old and ugly…_

“You!” He accused. She had been right in front of him since he got there. Now that she was in the room, Sam could smell the sulfur and didn’t know how he’d missed it before. 

Lowyatar stepped into the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Sam jumped to his feet, placing himself between her and Dean, but with a flick of her wrist a force slammed Sam out of the way and against the wall. He pulled against it but couldn’t move.

She stepped up to Dean eagerly, running one old wrinkled hand through his hair. 

“Get away from him.” Sam yelled, disgusted by the movement. 

He didn’t make any impact on Lowyatar, who ignored him completely and kept on stroking Dean’s hair. “My child.” 

Sam struggled against the force but couldn’t shift away from the wall. The book of exorcism had fallen to the floor, and was out of his reach. Okay, think Sam, think. He couldn’t fight his way out of the demon’s grasp, so his only hope was to get hold of that book or to get Lowyatar’s attention off of Dean.

He couldn’t perform the whole exorcism without the book, but maybe if he started, it would draw her attention towards him. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas...” 

It had the desired effect; Lowyatar turned her gaze on him and her hold released just long enough for Sam to drop to the floor and grab the book. 

He had flipped it open to the correct page before Lowyatar was on him and started again. “Ergo draco maledicte et sectio, ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica–” 

Lowyatar screamed and dove towards him. Fighting against the force of her rage, Sam managed to get his fingers on the bottle of holy water and release the cap. 

Before Lowyatar managed to get her hands on him, Sam sprayed her with water. Steam rose and she screeched in agony, giving Sam enough time to finish the incantation. “Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos.”

For a moment, nothing happened. But then Lowyatar through her head back, and black smoke streamed from her mouth as the demon left her body. Sam watched as the smoke ended and the host collapsed to the floor. 

Threat eliminated, Sam turned back to Dean, hoping that he’d not been too late to save him. He approached the bed, and went to take hold of Dean’s hand again. At the first touch, Dean’s eyes flew open and he arched up on the bed, fighting against the ventilator. 

“Dean, look at me, you’ve gotta relax.” Sam tried to reassure him as Dean’s panicked eyes darted around the room. Using one hand to keep Dean pressed against the bed; Sam turned back to the door and shouted. “Somebody help!”

It was only a couple of seconds before the door flew open and Doctor Banks burst in followed by several others, maybe someone had heard the fight with Lowyatar. The Doctor surveyed the scene, taking in the body of Lowyatar’s host first, and then turned to Dean who was still fighting against the ventilator. 

“Okay Dean, are you with me?” She put a hand on Dean’s forehead and forced him to look over at her. “I can take the tube out, but I need you to try and relax for me first, okay?” 

With quick and efficient movements, she disconnected the tube. “Okay Dean, on three, I need you to breathe out as hard as you can. One, two, and three.” She pulled and the tube came out, Dean coughing and spluttering as his throat was released. Once the tube was clear, the Doctor turned to Sam. “Right, you need to wait outside, I’ll come and get you when everything’s clear.” 

*

“Did you really think you could leave without saying goodbye?” Sam’s voice came from behind him as Dean was dropping his bag in the trunk of the Impala. Dammit. 

After Dean had woken up to a burning sensation in his lungs and tube shoved down his throat, his fever had completely gone and the Doctor couldn’t explain it. Eventually she’d put it down to Dean’s body fighting off whatever infection it had picked up, and that it was a weird coincidence that it had happened just after another patient had broken into his room and had some form of seizure. It was amazing what people would believe when faced with the supernatural.

Once she’d left, Sam had caught him up with what had happened and explained about the demon. He’d done good, and Dean was real proud of him for it, and grateful because without Sam, he’d be six feet under by now. Not that he was surprised; Sam had always been a great hunter.

Dean had managed to get a good night’s rest before he was discharged from the hospital, and while he was still drained from Lowyatar’s infection, he knew he was safe to get back on the road. Dad had called that morning, and Dean had thought he could make his exit before Sam got back from registering for his classes. 

He closed the trunk and turned around. “Pretty much. Dad called, gotta hit the road.” 

“Okay,” Sam scuffed his feet. “Take care of yourself okay? And uh.” He looked down at his feet again. “Dad, too.” 

“Always.” Dean pulled open the car door, and rubbed one hand along the back of his neck awkwardly. This is why he hated long goodbyes, nobody got anything out of them and he just wanted this over with. Sam had his new life now, and Dean wouldn’t be doing him any favors if he dragged him back to hunting with him, no matter how much he wanted to. “Look, you did pretty good back there.”

Sam snorted. “Is that your way of trying to say thanks for saving your ass?”

“Maybe.” Dean dropped down into the driver’s seat. “Thanks, bitch.” 

“You’re welcome, jerk.” Sam bent down and looked into the car window, and hell, had the kid grown another inch since he’d been at college? “Keep in touch, yeah?”

“Sure.” He put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. At least this time they were parting on better terms, and Dean hoped it wouldn’t be another two years before their paths crossed again.


End file.
